"You were attacked!" Thomas thundered.
"To be fair, I face assassination attempts on a fairly regular basis. If I told you about every single one, I'd never leave this office," I pointed out.
Thomas's face darkened as a vein started popping in his temple.
A soft giggle came from Sofia. Her eyes danced over the hand she clapped to her mouth.
"Who is after you?" Thomas asked, his left eye twitching.
I'd really hoped he wouldn't ask that. It was a futile hope, but the ostrich in me liked to pretend everything was hunky dory even as she buried her head in the sand.
"About that," I drawled.
"Aileen." That tone of voice left little room for argument.
I avoided his gaze as I addressed the air above his head. "Evidence seems to suggest the Scattered are responsible for the recent attempts."
Thomas's hands on the desk curled into fists, his claws carving a groove in the wood.
The atmosphere in the room turned heavy and cloying. A guillotine waiting to drop.
Thomas inhaled, his hands relaxing as the tension drained out of his body. "I see. That changes things."
I was tempted to ask how, but something told me his control was a little too tenuous right now.
"Until this matter is settled, you're confined to the mansion."
I protested. "I don't think so."
There was a boom. The windows behind Thomas's unmoving figure shattered.
"Oh my," Sofia murmured.
"Do you hate me so much you would risk your life to spite me?" he asked in a carefully controlled voice.
My mouth opened then closed as I took in his features where exhaustion and defeat warred for supremacy.
"I don't hate you," I admitted.
To my surprise, it was the truth. I didn't hate Thomas.
At some point, my anger toward him had faded. Whether it was because he'd offered his blood to heal my niece without asking anything in return or because I'd realized he wasn't quite the monster I'd painted him in my imagination, I didn't know.
Perhaps Connor was a big part of that.
It was hard not to see the love a father had toward a son when Thomas looked at Connor. And the pain that came from feeling like there was an unbridgeable chasm between them.
There was also the fact that I knew in my heart of hearts that he’d made the right decision in forcing my hand in drinking from live humans.
I knew my flaws very well. Unreasonable stubbornness was a big one.
I would have let myself deteriorate, unable to admit what was right in front of me until it was much too late.
It wasn’t an easy thing to recognize in myself. Much less give him a pass for violating my will, but I didn't have it in me to continue harboring such toxic emotions.
Short of killing him, Thomas wasn’t going away. He was going to find a way to be in my life whether I wanted it or not.
I needed to find a way to make that work on my terms. Doing that was the interesting part.
